The Way of K
by Lord Mendasuit
Summary: Harry Potter takes a page out of Agent K's book on how to deal with creatures infinitely stronger than yourself. It's a little... messy.


Harry looked at the dragon. It seemed to be pissed, as it loomed protectively over its clutch of eggs. A million thoughts went through Harry's head at the moment. Thoughts of his plan possibly going horribly wrong and him dying roasted in dragon fire. Thoughts of how Hermione would be disappointed in him for messing up even after they worked so hard to get him ready. Thoughts of how Ron might or might not pull his head out of his ass long enough to visit Harry during his funeral...

And of course, the most important thing he was thinking of was 'Hot damn are those teeth big!', since he was staring at the dragon and it was clearly staring at him, its teeth bared in a threatening fashion.

"You know, I've been thinking," Harry said, clearly, as the dragon roared at him. It seemed the noise and chatter of the audience quietened as if to listen to his words. "This is just complete and total bullshit," the Boy who Lived saw without a single damn to give about his bad language, "first, I get chosen for a potentially lethal tournament, then everyone and their mothers, and some of the fathers too, believe I found a way around the age line, which I didn't, and thus hate me for not sharing it. Everyone thinks I'm an attention whore desperate for the money that would come from winning this tournament..."

Harry sighed, as he saw the dragon stare at him almost in confusion, seeing how he didn't act in the least like the usual way humans did near it. Usually, they either attacked, approached with extreme caution, or just outright escaped. Simply standing there to talk was a new experience.

"I see no reason why I should put any form of effort to win here. Let's face it: I didn't enter myself, I'm no match for the other three champions even if they let me win. I don't need the money, the Potter Trust contains enough to see me living a comfortable life if I manage it well and get a job. I don't need the fame, I'm already famous and believe me, being famous blows chunks. Point is, why should I put in any degree of effort into this?" questioned the boy, his hands meeting behind his neck.

There was a low murmur of wonder and questioning as Harry Potter enumerated the reasons why he wouldn't have entered himself into the tournament. Many expressed their disbelief in those being his thoughts, and many more expressed mockeries of the Boy Who Lived's 'cowardice' in not facing the first task, now that he learned it was truly dangerous.

Harry didn't particularly care, however, as he continued looking at the mighty beast before him. "So, I figured I would ruin everyone else's day by siting on my ass and doing absolutely nothing until they disqualify me. I'm forced to compete, not win, by the magical contract, so... yeah."

"Actually, Mister Potter," Dumbledore's voice, amplified with a charm, cut through the noise. "I regret to inform you that the rules require you to at least make an honest attempt at completing the task," he really did sound regretful. Harry had no doubts that Dumbledore found Harry's words utterly hilarious, and the old man had actually believed Harry when he said he hadn't put his name in, no matter what disbelief he might have shown.

"Ah, bugger," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "It had to be, of course, yet another magical artifact to screw me over and bring me to Death's Door once more," waxed poetical Harry.

Plan A was a bust as soon as Harry tried calling his broom to his hand. It hadn't answered his call, and he'd almost gotten toasted by the dragon for his effort. Ultimately, Harry decided Plan B was in order. Unfortunately, Plan B was the one he'd affectionately nicknamed 'This Plan Sucks', because he was quite certain what he was about to do ranked up there with the most suicidal things wizards had done in the name of comedy.

Without giving a single damn about anything, Harry removed himself from his cover and began walking forwards, towards the beast that trashed against its bonds. "Oh, look at yourself, so big and high and mighty! You're just a goddamn overgrown lizard with delusions of grandeur! You hear me!? You're NOTHING! I could take ten of you before breakfast, no problem!" snarled the Boy Who Lived, green eyes almost glowing as he glared at the massive beast that roared in anger at the insults.

It spewed a torrent of flames in his direction, and Harry waved his wand upwards. A wall of stone rose up, diverting the flames in two directions and collapsing when they ended, revealing an unharmed Harry Potter smirking at the beast.

"That's all you got!? You're pitiful! I've seen hotter fire coming from a muggle stove! Your fire is bloody useless, just as everything else about you!" the dragon interrupted the rant, however, by roaring and trashing against its bonds, and Harry had to wait for it to return to low growls and snarls before continuing. "Who the hell do you think you are?! C'mere! Show me you're worth my goddamn time! EAT ME, you overgrown swamp lizard, EAT ME!" yelled the wizard at the top of his lungs, as he raised a platform with transfiguration, so that he stood closer to the dragon's mouth.

Reaching the end of its patience, the dragon did as instructed and darted forward, mouth open, ready to cleave the wizard's body in half with its teeth...

… Only to be incapable of doing so when the wizard leaped past its teeth and slid down its throat.

"What."

The unanimous shout was punctuated by someone adding 'the fuck' or 'the hell', most shocked beyond minding their swear words.

The dragon prepared to return to its clutch after what no doubt had been a tasty meal of human flesh, and it curled around its eggs, everyone simply too shocked to do anything for much of five minutes. They'd just watched the boy who lived essentially commit suicide, and it hammered in just how much the boy had been truthful when he spoke about hating his life.

Ron Weasley felt like slitting his own wrists from the guilt, he knew he'd most likely been a major part of the depression that had lead Harry to suicide.

As some began crying for the senseless loss of life, there was a rumbling sound, and the dragon suddenly raised its head on its long neck, an expression of intense pain on its draconic face. The massive beast seemed to inflate for a few seconds, before the beast's belly did like a balloon and started growing almost obscenely.

Shortly after that, the dragon's belly went boom, splattering gore all over the arena and reaching up to the stands and the audience. From the center of the carnage emerged Harry Potter, holding his wand up as if he'd just cast a spell, the tip of his Holly and Phoenix Feather wand still glowing and smoking faintly.

Harry spat a mouthful of draconic gastric acids, not even caring about the burns all over his body.

"I win, motherfuckers," said the Boy Who Lived, walking calmly to collect his egg, and then facing the judges. He lifted one hand, his middle finger up, and pointed it at them. He lasted all of five seconds on his feet doing that before he collapsed forward, unconscious.


End file.
